Lyrics
[Intro] [Verse] Rusted loading docks, iron and salt Every heavy lift is another man's fault Father’s hands, calloused and cold Stories of the struggle that never get told Clocking in the hours just to pay for the breath Chasing down a ghost in the shadow of death Warehouse echoes with a hollow metallic sound Building up a kingdom while we’re buried in the ground [Pre-Chorus] They promise you the gold but they give you the lead Filling up your pockets while they empty your head It’s a cycle, a circle, a spinning concrete wheel Trying to find the heart inside the cold polished steel [Chorus] It’s the hustle myth, the trap in the light Working for the morning in the middle of the night Pay stub thin, but the debt is getting wide Nowhere for a working man to run or to hide Yeah, it’s the grindstone, turning us to dust Turning every silver lining into iron rust They call it a climb but it’s a long way down Wearing out your spirit for a plastic crown [Verse] Expired lottery tickets, scattered on the floor Dreaming of a life behind a different kind of door Minimum wage for a maximum pain Standing in the sun while they’re praying for the rain That pay stub is crumpled in a fist made of stone Working for a man who’s never truly alone While we stand in silence on the edge of the bay Watching every season simply wither away [Post-Chorus] Grind until you break, then they replace the part Nothing left to give but a heavy, weary heart Watch the vinyl spin, hear the crackle in the air System is a burden that we’re forced to bear [Breakdown] [Bridge] Harmonica is wailing like a siren in the dark Trying to find a fire from a dying little spark It isn't just a job, it’s a cage with a view Built by the many for the benefit of few Upright bass thumping like a heartbeat in a chest No time for the weary, no time for the rest Break the cycle now or let the cycle break you Tell me what a man is really supposed to do [Verse] I see my father’s face in the mirror on the wall Waiting for the moment that the hammer’s gonna fall He gave away his years for a watch and a pen Doing it all over and then doing it again The loading dock is empty but the memory is full Feeling every tension, feeling every single pull It’s a conscious realization in a world of the blind Leaving all the hustle and the vanity behind [Chorus] It’s the hustle myth, the trap in the light Working for the morning in the middle of the night Pay stub thin, but the debt is getting wide Nowhere for a working man to run or to hide Yeah, it’s the grindstone, turning us to dust Turning every silver lining into iron rust They call it a climb but it’s a long way down Wearing out your spirit for a plastic crown [Outro]
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